Behind Blue Eyes
by A Black Star
Summary: Summary: SPOILERS! Inside Ron Weasley’s head at loud staticy noise’s funeral. What he’s really thinking behind his blue eyes. Songfic, Oneshot. Only read if you have finished HBP. Please R


Disclaimer: I do not own any characters mentioned. They are all the creation of J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the song, or the title, both of which belong to The Who. I basically only own the plot.

**WARNING: SPOILERS! THIS STORY IS A POST HBP STORY! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT READ HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF BLOOD PRINCE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

A/N: I got this idea while listening to music while reading fanfiction one day a while ago, though the idea at the time had been different, since HBP had not been released yet at the time. But now that it has been, I think this fits even better. Especially since JKR even announced that Ron's eyes are blue in her interview with Emerson of Mugglenet (wwwdotmugglenetdotcom) and Melissa of The Leaky Cauldron (wwwdotthe-leaky-cauldrondotorg) (the interview can be read on either site) which, though I had (for some reason) always assumed this, was awesome since it provided even more grounds for this story. So… yeah. Read and Review!

Summary: SPOILERS! Inside Ron Weasley's head at loud static-y noise's funeral. What he's really thinking behind his blue eyes. Songfic, One-shot. Only read if you have finished HBP. Please R&R

_No one knows what it's like_

_To be the bad man_

_To be the sad man_

_Behind blue eyes_

Blue eyes stared out from behind thick black lashes and a crop of vibrant red hair. Ron Weasley was staring out over the crowd at Dumbledore's funeral, watching everyone else. He felt like a horrible person, he just couldn't bring himself to cry. He had loved the old headmaster, with all of his quirks, but somehow, even in his immense grief, he couldn't cry. The tears just wouldn't cry. Did this make him a bad person? Or was he just beyond tears at this point. He felt like his whole world had collapsed, with Dumbledore gone. He had never even thought to imagine life without the old man, and now he was gone. He wondered if anyone else felt the way he did. If anyone else was feeling the greatness of this loss the way he did, the sadness, the pain. The hopelessness.

_No one knows what it's like_

_To be hated_

_To be fated_

_To telling only lies_

Then there was everything else that was going on, all of the relationship problems that seemed to have sprung up in the last year. Again he felt like no one else could possible know what he was going though. He felt as though Lavender hated him sometimes, every time they argued, and sometimes even when they didn't. He felt she must hate him every time she called him _Won Won_. Who would do that to someone they didn't hate after all? Then there was Hermione. Ron thought she was gorgeous, with her long brown hair and honey coloured eyes. Then there was her personality. She could be so serious at times, but so funny at others. He loved the way she looked when she would laugh. They way her eyes would light up. But sometimes, even she seemed to hate him. Dating that McLaggen bloke, always arguing with him. He loved her so much, but she seemed to hate him most of the time. And every time he realized this, Ron's heart broke. But always, _always,_ when people asked him how he was, he would reply "Fine," or something similar. He couldn't admit to it being otherwise, he couldn't admit that he _wasn't _fine. It seemed as if he was fated to only telling these lies. So many things bothered him, but he kept them bottled up.

_But my dreams_

_They aren't as empty_

_As my conscience seems to be_

His dreams, oh boy did Ronald Weasley have dreams. He wanted to have it all, to be it all. He had so many people to live up to in his family, and he wanted to be just as good as all of them. Just as utterly perfect as Bill and Charlie, (as much as he hated to admit is) just as smart as Percy, just as funny as the twins. He wanted to be everything that he could be, to do everything that would make his family proud. He had dreamed of being Headboy in his seventh year, and the Quidditch captain. But Harry had been made Quidditch captain this year, and it seemed that there was no way that Hogwarts would reopen next year, with Dumbledore gone.

And here he was thinking about himself, in all of his selfish thoughts, at Dumbledore's funeral. Thinking of himself when the greatest wizard that had ever lived was dead. Was his conscience truly that empty?

_I have hours, only lonely_

_My love is vengeance_

_That's never free_

Ron had spent hours that year by himself, when Harry and Hermione had gone off thinking that he would be snogging Lavender. But he had only really done that when Hermione was around, trying to get her jealous. To him it didn't seem to work, after all she didn't try to chase him; instead she went off to snog McLaggen. And during those hours, he was so lonely, even if he had isolated himself. His love for Hermione, when he saw it unreturned, turned to vengeance when he went off with Lavender, but he still never felt free.

_No one knows what it's like_

_To feel these feelings_

_Like I do_

_And I blame you_

He felt so alone, like no one could understand him, like no one knew what it was like. He had so many strong feelings. His love, which always seemed to just screw him over, that he blamed on Hermione (damn her for making him fall in love…); his pain caused by all of these deaths, and from Percy leaving the family, for which he blamed a slew of people, especially Voldemort. The stupid bastard that seemed determined to ruin his life, and the lives of so many that he loved. Then there was Snape. The bastard. He did this, he killed everyone's mentor. Dumbledore had trusted him, and he turned around and did this. This was Snape's fault.

_No one bites back as hard_

_On their anger_

_None of my pain and woe_

_Can show through_

But no one would ever see his anger, his pain, his woe. He would never let them see. They had enough to worry about with Harry, they didn't need him to be always going off. Then there were all of the Death Eaters and all of those who seemed to work against him and his friends, who would see this weakness. He would never let them see all that he went through. He would be the only one who knew his pain. Forever.

_But my dreams_

_They aren't as empty_

_As my conscience seems to be_

_I have hours, only lonely_

_My love is vengeance_

_That's never free_

Ron saw all the people around him crying, or fighting back tears, and once again guilt ran through him for not being able to show the sadness that they showed. He felt the pain, but he couldn't express it like they did. He even watched as Umbridge, the filthy excuse of a human, blotted at the fake tears falling from her eyes. Anger surged through him then, that woman had no right to even be here, she _hated _Dumbledore. But he had no way of changing it, not without causing a scene, which he didn't want to do right then. And once again, Ron felt so alone, like no one understood him. He didn't even know where the feeling came from this time, he just felt it coursing through him.

_When my fist clenches, crack it open_

_Before I use it and lose my cool_

_When I smile, tell me some bad news_

_Before I laugh and act like a fool_

He looked over, first to Hermione, then to Ginny, and finally to Harry. His two best friends and his sister, who had always been like a friend to him anyway. They always would keep him in check, would always make sure he was alright. How many times had they saved him from attacking Malfoy, grabbing his as soon as they saw his fist clench, before he had a chance to lose his cool. And soon they would have to be telling him bad news whenever he smiled, before he burst out laughing and began to act like a complete idiot, which he always seemed to do.

_If I swallow anything evil_

_Put your finger down my throat_

_If I shiver, please give me a blanket_

_Keep me warm, let me wear your coat_

His friends… they always seemed to be there to save him, like when Harry shoved a Beozar down his throat earlier in the year after he had drank the poisoned wine. How many times had Harry thrown him a blanket in the middle of the night when he complained of being cold while they were attempting to fall to sleep? How many times had they huddled together for warmth under the invisibility cloak for warmth on the cold nights that they were off adventuring, or just wandering? His friends always seemed to be there. But then Dumbledore had always seemed to be there, to save the day, and now he was gone. Now they didn't have their wise old headmaster to come and save them, to help them. If he could be gone this easily, who was there to say that Harry, Ginny, or Hermione wouldn't just be gone one day. Hermione gone, Ron shivered at the thought.

_No one knows what it's like_

_To be the bad man_

_To be the sad man_

_Behind blue eyes_

And it was at that moment that it really seemed to hit the red haired boy that Dumbledore was _gone_. That he was _dead_. That he was _never coming back_. And at that moment, tears began to fall from his clear blue eyes, like raindrops from the clear blue sky above. But the crying did not cleanse him, it did not help him. As Dumbledore's casket rose up into the air with a great burst of white light, Ron felt even more alone then he had before. And he felt as if he _knew_ that no one knew how it felt to be the man behind blue eyes.


End file.
